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THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE.
Certainly Fifine was as much a child as when lie married her, three years ago. A merry, irresponsible sparrow of the Latin Quarter— a gayly plumed sparrow, truly; one he had thought to tame and teach to sing low, soft mother-songs. The nest he had prepared, the nestling lay in the be-ribboned cradle, but Fifine was still the untamed sparrow, chattering, darting here and there. In her seemed incarnated the very soul of the Quarter that had known her since birth. He had made a mistake in his gentleness, perhaps; mayhap sternness. He smiled to himself. The idea of sternness to Fifine seemed so queer. As readily be stern to a wild rose. And how he loved her! Unconsciously his arms tightened about her, passionately.
She, knowing that the battle was won, sprang away from him, a trill of laughter on her lips, and paused in front of the picture on which he had been working. Whatever else she might lack, Fifine knew art as the critic knows it, and for a moment she grew
serious as she surveyed the canvas thru half closed eyes.
"It is splendid, Jerome," she said, abandoning the broken English that she used when he attempted to scold, and which to him had never lost its charm. "Your colors are unique, but wonderful I"
"It is good, isn't it ?" he said softly, and the dreamy look came into his eves.
" Abruptly the studio door swung open, admitting a trio of chattering girls. They, too, were of the Quarter, and with a sense of disgust Jerome realized that in all essentials Fifine was their counterpart. Different to him, because he loved her, but to a stranger the same.
"Of course you're coming! What would he say if you were not present?" Jerome heard the black eyed Mnette whisper, and then add aloud :
"Oh, come on, Fifine ! My old mother from Xormandy is here, and I want you to meet her."
Jerome smiled scornfully. Ninette's
"you three may go, now!" tie added savagely,